The White Tomb
by WildeAquarius
Summary: When you want to attend the funeral of your friend and mentor, but you are wanted by the Ministry in regards to his death, what can you do? If you are a Potions Master, there is only one answer.
1. Chapter 1

The White Tomb

_Hogwarts should be Dumbledore's final resting place. _

Lola set down the empty tray and began to wipe it down with a grey rag that had seen better days. Two of her regulars, Mike and Davey sat in their usual seats, at the end of the bar, sipping whiskey, occasionally leaning in toward each other to speak and be heard over the jukebox. A boy band hit from a few years previous was playing, and Lola sang quietly along, without realizing. "_Baby take me, high up on a hillside_." She looked up from the beer stained serving tray to find Mike, a shortish heavy set man, trying to catch her eye as he waggled two stubby fingers at her. With a smile disguised sigh, she tossed the grey rag on to the back bar where it landed on the supply of chilling bottles of beer. Still singing along with the song on the jukebox, "_I could love you, build my world around you,_" Lola ambled over to the two men, grabbing the bottle of whiskey as she passed, pulling it along with her.

"Quiet night, huh?" Mike said for the third time that evening as she poured. The neon sign advertising a beer brand flashed red, reflecting on his balding horseshoe shaped scalp that disappeared underneath graying blonde hair, grown long in compensation, a race between the length of his hair and the balding patch. The scalp was winning, Lola noted as her sharp eyes found two strands of hair lying on his shoulder amidst a dusting of dandruff.

"Yeah, so you two had better tip big," Lola repeated, also for the third time. She forced her smile wider as she said it, her stomach lurching as the picture of the electric bill sitting at home on her kitchen table floated up into her mind.

Both men laughed, more drunkenly than they had done previously, and Lola knew the power company would be calling soon. She moved away, and from the corner of her eye, Lola saw Davey lean toward Mike, a leer in his eye as he glanced at her, his mouth moving close to Mike's ear, and a moment later, Mike burst out laughing, his small brown eyes disappearing between his fleshy eyelids and the thick bags that hung beneath. There was nothing else for it, she thought, slipping the whiskey bottle back into place, she was going to have to try her luck elsewhere. Maybe Oxford or Canterbury would hold better luck for her than Cokeworth.

The song on the jukebox ended with a few trailing notes, silence erupting into the pub at the same moment the door from the street swung open, revealing a shadow of a man standing still in the doorframe. After a moments pause, the stranger stepped inside and Lola thought he looked quite like a shadow come to life, with his crisply creased black slacks, long sleeved black button down collared shirt, with every single button done up, even the one at the very top against his throat. His long black hair fell into his face, hiding most of his features, save for a large hooked nose. A lost traveler, Lola assumed, stopping in at the pub, perhaps for directions, although Cokeworth was on the way to no where.

"Help you sir?" Lola asked as the door swung shut behind the stranger. She gave him her widest smile, thrust back her shoulders and cocked out one hip. Never hurts to flirt, she thought, might be my ticket out of this place, or a big tipper, he does look like he could use a drink.

"Whiskey," the stranger said in a cool, blunt voice, his eyes, squinted almost shut against the harsh electric light, traveled the room crossing over the empty tables then over the bar where Mike and Davey sat. He crossed the room in a few steps and sat down at the bar, choosing a stool a few away from Mike.

"Right you are then," Lola answered, pulling out the whiskey bottle once again. She glanced at her reflection in the large mirror that ran behind the length of the bar as she filled a short glass. "You're new 'round here, aren't you?" She asked turning and setting the whiskey down in front of the stranger.

The dark stranger took a sip of his drink and seemed to consider his answer. "No," he said, making eye contact for the first time, "It's my childhood … home."

"What's that name then?" Mike asked loudly. He'd lived here all his life, and was certain he knew everyone who had lived here in the past sixty years.

The stranger seemed to consider his answer for a moment, and Mike wondered how hard it was to remember ones own name. "Snape," came the answer quietly. A face flashed in Mikes mind, the long forgotten face of another pub patron. Red rimmed coal black eyes, short dark hair and a hooked nose surrounded by cheeks with spider web like broken veins.

"Yeah," Mike said slowly, "I remember a Snape. He'd be yer dad then? Died twenty years ago, wasn't it?"

"About that, yes," answered the stranger, and lifted his glass downing the rest of its contents in one. His hair fell off his face with the movement, allowing Mike a better look.

"Yeah, you look quite like yer father," Mike slurred a bit.

Severus Snape sneered with all the connotations that remark dredged up for him and closed his eyes against the images of two Potters. He opened them only to find his fathers face reflecting back at him from the mirror behind the bar, and looked quickly away. There was a task at hand, his only reason to have come to this muggle pub, and he needed to focus. Signaling the woman for another drink, he turned his attention to the two men. The one who'd known his father was still staring at him.

"Mean bloke, wadn't he?" Mike said and drained his own glass. "Can't remember him ever mentioning he had a son." He held up his empty glass and Lola filled it before sauntering back over to stand in front of Severus.

The comment clenched at Severus' stomach, but he showed no outwardly signs of the blow. No surprise that Tobias Snape had never mentioned his son. Severus studied the man for a moment, he'll do, he thought. No worse than anyone else. Now, the question was, how to go about getting… "cheated him in a card game, damn near killed the poor SOB with his bare hands." Severus realized Mike had been speaking.

"Oh?" Severus said, not really caring who had been nearly killed by his father, for there was no question that it was Tobias Snape who had been on the delivering end of those blows. Mike began to ramble again, and Severus tuned him out, but kept his gaze fixed on the older muggle. From the corner of his eye, Severus saw Lola, still standing right in front of him, watching Mike as he spoke, but stealing glances back to Severus, gauging his reaction to whatever story Mike was reeling off about the elder Snape. Severus was about to utter another noncommittal comment when he noticed the sprinkling of dandruff on the muggles shoulder. Dandruff would meet the requirements of the potion, and while it was a disgusting thought to digest, it was, Severus had to admit to himself, no more so revolting than any other alternative.

That mattered settled; it presented a new dilemma, the timing of the acquisition. Severus shifted his gaze over the three muggles in the pub. Mike was still talking, rambling on about the 'good old days' when the factory was still open and the bar would fill with men drinking, forgetting or just trying to get through the night. The other two, the muggle sitting next to the reminiscing bloke, and the barmaid both had their eyes on the man droning on. _Accio_ Severus thought, and pulled the empty small glass bottle from his trousers pocket, uncorking it and holding it near his knee and out of sight. The dandruff rose as one, up, off Mikes shoulder and floated toward Severus. His gaze casually drifted toward the barmaid and found her staring in the empty air between Mike and himself. Not sure if she was lost in thought, or if she had seen the particles of dandruff floating. No matter really, simple matter to clear up before he left.

The dandruff, and as a bonus, two hairs Severus had not seen, floated into the glass bottle and he corked it quickly. Standing up, he slipped it back into his trousers pocket, pulling out folded muggle money to cover the movement. Peeling off a bill, he caught Lola's eye and in the brief moment they held the bill between them, Severus stared into her eyes, and thought _Obliviate._ Her eyes glazed over and Severus let go of the bill. With a perfunctory nod to Mike, who had stopped speaking when Severus stood, he turned and left the bar.

As the door closed Lola was surprised to find herself clasping a bill. She blinked and looked toward Mike, about to ask if he had given her the money, but before she could Mike interrupted her thoughts, "Odd bloke, wadn't he?"

Lola blinked again. "Who?"

Out in the cool night air, Severus slipped into the shadow of the Railview Hotel and Disapparated.

**a/n: credit where credit is due: the song on the jukebox is _Could it be Magic _lyrics written by Adrienne Anderson and music mainly composed by Barry Manilow. And for my fellow Americans, was covered by Take That in the early 1990s. **


	2. Chapter 2

Two houses loomed darkly over him as he Apparated into the alley between his home and that of the neighbors he had never bothered to meet. Spinners End sat quietly, underneath a wet fog, wallowing in its own debris and decay. The stench of the dirty river reached his nostrils as he turned from the alley and onto his own doorstep. The door swung open at his arrival, and the candle lit lamp in the sitting room ignited as Severus made his way up the stairs and into his bedroom. Placing the small glass bottle and the folded muggle money onto the bedside table, he changed, folding the muggle clothes into a neat pile and stowing them away in the bottom drawer of the chest and climbed into bed, knowing sleep would elude him again this night.

.

The kettle blared in the morning when Severus touched his wand to it, and he poured boiling water over the tea. Cradling the warm cup between his palms, the heat seeping into his skin just as the tea seeped into the water; Severus stared out the kitchen window, watching the sky lighten with the coming day. An owl swept through his field of vision, he watched it swoop gracefully through the sky, landing lightly on the window sill. Severus opened the window and exchanged Knuts for the copy of the Daily Prophet. The owl took off in flight again, and he watched the owl float gracefully in the air of the early summer morning, until it was nothing but a small black dot on the horizon.

Turning his attention to the Prophet, his own face glared up at him from the front page, the words WIZARD SAUGHT blazoned across his chest. The photograph Severus cocked an eyebrow at the Severus standing in the kitchen, as if asking his flesh and blood counterpart, _Well, what did you expect_? With a thick upheaval of his stomach, and a well practiced sneer on his lips, he tore the front page off, crumpling it in his fist before tossing it in the waste paper basket.

An hour later, the cup of tea had cooled, hardly touched and the idea of breakfast was rejected out of hand. Severus' appetite, low for many months, was nonexistent with the thoughts of what he had done and of what he was about to do. The Prophet was folded again and banished to the side table, only partially read, as it was full of articles and remembrances of the fallen Headmaster.

Oddly, it was of Barty Crouch Jr he thought of, sitting there in the threadbare chair that had once been designated as his fathers. Young Crouch, who had been so eager in his betrayal of his father; so happy to be in the presence of the Death Eaters, in what he had thought of as acceptance, rejoicing in his treachery. Crouch who had taunted Severus through the guise of Moody; who had hidden behind a polyjuice potion created costume of flesh to hide in plain sight for those many months. But, Severus thought to himself with a slight, prideful smirk, he had been again among his enemies for two years now, with only his wits, no protection of any potion.

The sun had risen, but had not climbed very high when Severus pulled the clear crystal flask from the kitchen cupboard designated solely for potions and ingredients. The mud thick green potion slopped against the sides of the flask as Severus carried it up the stairs, sat down on the edge of his bed, set his wand down on the bedside table and picked up the bottle of dandruff and the two hairs.

One bubble listlessly floated up to the surface and popped wetly as he thumbed off the top of the potion flask. Severus pulled out the stopper of the smaller glass bottle and tipped the dandruff and hair into the potion. Immediately the potion began to bubble rapidly, turning a deep yellow color with streaks of red. Steeling himself for the pain he was about to inflict on himself, he lifted the flask to his lips and drank down half the potion. It tasted like burned lemon peel.

His stomach churned and lurched, and pain hit him suddenly as his internal organs began to bloat. His skin began to bubble with pustule cysts as the potion made its way through his veins. His scalp sucked in the hair on top of his head, and spit it back out down his back, lightening and graying in color as it did. His robes became too small for him, the collar tightening against his expanding neck. Severus reached up with shortening and plumping fingers and fumbled for a moment, letting the collar drop down on his shoulder. His stomach, shoulders and chest expanded, straining tightly against the robes, even as loose fitting as they had become of late. His legs shortened, and he could feel the flesh of his nose shrinking and spreading back out puffily around his eyes. And then suddenly, it was finished.

Severus took up his wand, expanding the robes so that they fit comfortably and he could breathe again. He stood, and the bottom of his robes puddled at his feet. With an irritable grimace, he pointed the wand at the floor and the robes shrunk themselves to an adequate length.

He checked the transformation in the mirror, and for once in a very, very long time, did not see his father reflected back at him. He had known what to expect, he was the Potions Master of the most prestigious wizarding school after all…Well, former Potions Master he corrected himself and the strange body in the mirror sagged a bit with the thought, the face staring blankly back at him.

The collar of his robes was still undone and lying across his shoulder. Severus lifted up his arms and with swollen hands and a bit of fumbling of swollen foreign fingers, managed to secure the collar back in place. He touched the bald plate of his scalp with his left hand, watching his disguised self in the mirror. And then a thought struck him, sending cold chills up his spine. Ripping his eyes away from the stranger in the mirror, Severus stared at his sleeved left arm. Quickly, he pushed the sleeve up, past his elbow, staring at his forearm and found nothing there but clean skin. The Dark Mark was gone.

Downstairs a few minutes later, Severus tucked the flask containing the rest of the potion into a pocket of his robes and opened the front door just a crack. A man, who Severus assumed was a neighbor, was walking past the front door, and the neighbor looked up just in time to see a heavyset older man with long grayish blonde hair close the door on him. The neighbor walked on, wondering when the black haired man with the hooked nose had moved out.

Inside, Severus waited a few moments before trying again. This time, there was no neighbor to impede his journey, and he stepped out into the stench filled daylight, closing the door behind him. Not a soul was in sight, as Severus double checked up and down the street and turned the corner back into that same alley and Disapparated.


	3. Chapter 3

Hogsmeade seemed to be deserted, or nearly so, when he Apparated near Scrivenshaft's, but after a few minutes walk, he saw a group of about twenty people gathered near the entrance to The Three Broomsticks. Assuming they were here for the same reason he was, he walked over to join them, never admitting to his self that a very, very small particle in his churning stomach wanted to test the disguise. He was quite sure he would be safe, had placed his faith and his freedom into his own potion brewing skills, but even so, perhaps it was better to find out now, here in Hogsmeade when he could Disparate at the slightest sign of recognition.

He came to a halt just on the outskirts of the group, and glanced around. Molly Weasley, a handkerchief clutched to her face was leaning on her husband Arthur. That girl from Beauxbatons who had been a school Champion two years previous, stood next to Arthur, a consoling hand on Molly's back. The Weasley twins, for once subdued, stood somberly off to the side, their garish jackets shining in the sun.

Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody stood together, speaking quietly, and with a jolt up his spine, Severus heard his own name in the conversation. And there were others, standing in groups of two and three, some Severus knew only by sight, and some he did not recognize at all, presumably from the Ministry or from Dumbledores past.

"Hello," a familiar voice came from behind him, interrupting Severus' thoughts. He felt himself stiffen and turned around to face Remus Lupin. "You're here for the funeral?" Remus continued.

"Yes," Severus answered, his throat was dry and the voice issuing from his own mouth sounded scratchy. All the better, he thought to himself.

"The Knight Bus will be back in a moment or two; they've already taken a group from the Ministry up to the school." Lupins hands were in his trouser pockets, his shoulders slumping.

Severus gave Lupin a short nod. "Thank you," and shifted as if to turn away again, his anxiety easing. If Remus Lupin, who had known Severus for twenty years didn't recognize him, there was little doubt that anyone from the Ministry would.

"How did you know Albus?" Nymphadora Tonks asked, walking up and slipping one arm through Lupins and hugged it gently. Her hair, an inappropriate shade of pink in Severus' opinion, glowed in the sun.

"Former student," Severus said, "I was a great…" he paused, "admirer of his."

Remus nodded understandingly. "There are a lot of us who …" he was cut short by a deafening bang as the luridly purple Knight Bus popped into view. The bus came to a shattering stop and the door flicked open. Ernie Prang stepped down off the bus and held out an inviting arm.

"Got no conductor anymore, I'll help you on."

Molly was the first to board, then the Veela girl followed by the Weasley men. The group thinned as people boarded, Lupin and Tonks walking past him to board behind a Ministry employee. Severus waited until only Kingsley and Moody were left standing off to the side. Moody's artificial eye zoomed up and down Severus' body as he crossed in front of them and boarded the bus. Severus' left arm twitched involuntarily.

It had been less than a week, but Severus felt a pang of longing as the bus rounded a corner and the castle slipped into view. The pang was quickly followed by a familiar thrill of excitement, a throwback memory to his days as a student when the carriages rounded this same curve in the road, offering this same fist view of the castle, large and commanding and yet still so warm and welcoming. He would have liked nothing more than to reclaim his place as professor, close himself up in his office with his books and ingredients. To not be a wanted man, to not have to use Polyjuice Potion to attend the funeral of a friend.

The high iron gates swung open as the bus approached, driving in several hundred feet before coming to a stop parallel to Hagrid's cabin. A dozen winged palominos grazed in the grass near the cabin, a power blue carriage parked just beyond.

A tall red-headed man with slashes of wounds across his face stood waiting, and Severus had a flash of guilt as the memory of stepping over him, the wounded and possibly dying Bill Weasley as he lay on the cold stone floor, a victim of Fenrir Greyback rose in his mind. The blonde Veela girl scrambled off the bus and into Bills arms as soon as the bus came to a halt, threw her arms around his neck, as he encircled his arms around her back, pulling her closer.

The rest of the passengers debussed and walked past the embracing couple, Severus included. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the Weasleys, who were last down the steps, as they stood quietly off to the side, waiting for their own turn to greet Bill. Fred and George stared at Hagrid's cabin, still showing signs of the fire that had consumed it. Severus was momentarily astonished that Dumbledore hadn't put it right yet, and then caught himself. No, of course Dumbledore hadn't.

Moody and Kingsley were several feet behind Severus, and both of Moody's eyes were on him, the bright blue magical eye sweeping up and down Severus' polyjuiced body, knowing something was off, but not knowing exactly what. Severus gave no sign of recognition and turned back around.

Lupin and Tonks fell into step with Severus; the thunk of Moody's wooden leg followed them up the schools drive. "Where is the ceremony?" Severus asked assuming an unfamiliar voice.

"The Black Lake," Lupin answered distractedly. Almost against his will, Severus looked toward him, and found Lupin staring at the Whomping Willow.

"Surely it does not hold happy memories for you, Lupin." Severus sneered, never one to miss a chance to remind Lupin of his lycanthropy.

Remus and Tonks both stopped in their tracks and stared at Severus. Behind them, Kingsley and Moody stopped as well, waiting. From the corner of his eye, Severus saw the slightest movement as Kingsley and Tonks both reached for the place where their wands were stored. From even further behind, the Weasleys stopped as well, not knowing why, only sensing the tension in the moment. Arthur stepped in front of Molly.

"What did you say?" Remus asked quietly, uncertainty and anger mingled together in his voice.

Severus thought quickly, "It is only a tree after all," forcing the assumed voice to sound casual even as he mentally reprimanded himself for the slip.

Remus scrutinized Severus for a long moment then relaxed a bit, but not fully and shot a glance toward the Aura's behind them. He raised a hand, telling them it was alright. Kingsley's hand fell back to his side, but Tonks' did not. She had heard the exchange and knew exactly what Remus had reacted to. The wiz and buzz of Moody's magical eye carried to them in the stillness of the moment.

Severus was the first to move again, continuing up the drive toward the school, resolving to say as little as possible until he was back at Spinners End, lest he give himself away. Moody's thunk echoed up to him. Making his way around the castle, through the path that traveled by the greenhouses, Severus stopped short at the sight in front of him.

Rufus Scrimgeour and Cornelius Fudge chatted quietly, their heads bent close together. Percy Weasley stood off to the side, nervously wringing his hands. Dolores Umbridge stood beside Scrimgeour, a gloating expression beneath her black bowed hair.

Arabella Figg was sitting on one of the hundreds of golden chairs, next to Aberforth Dumbledore, a comforting hand on his shoulder. Rita Skeeter, her acid green quill moving feverishly, spoke to the small ceremony official. With a lurch in his stomach, Severus recognized him as the same wizard who had resided over Lily's funeral, of which Severus had attended hundreds of times, first in Dumbledore's Pensive, then in his own mind when sleep evaded him.

Lupin and the three Auras' brushed past Severus to stand on the outskirts of the crowd, far away from the Minister and former Minister. They huddled together, Kingsley and Moody shooting Severus several glances as Lupin no doubt told them of the short exchange moments ago.

Molly Weasley rushed past him and hurried toward her son Percy, who turned his back on his mother and walked away. Arthur caught up to her and gathered her into his arms, Fred, George and Bill stared angrily at Percy's back.

A hushed murmuring came from the crowd, and people began to move and take their seats. Severus looked around to see what had caused the interval and found the students of Hogwarts streaming out of the castle, more subdued than he had ever known them to be.

Filius Flitwick led the long line, immediately followed by students of Ravenclaw. Luna Lovegood, Severus noted amazed, lifted her face to the sun. Pomona Sprout led the Hufflepuffs. Then Minerva McGonagall emerged from the castle, looking stoic and somber. Severus narrowed his eyes, searching the group of Gryffindors, and after a moment, found what he was looking for. It was Ginny Weasley's hair he found first, and then, yes, of course, standing right next to her… With a sickening clench in his chest, Severus realized, as he had never done before, from this distance, they looked remarkably like… With a grimace he tore his eyes away to find Horace Slughorn leading the Slytherins. Severus let his eyes travel down the line of students who had once been his own to lead.

Crabbe and Goyle seemed not to know what to do with themselves without the missing Draco, whom Severus had last seen heading up the staircase in Malfoy Manor several nights ago. Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes dramatically as Luna stretched out her hand toward Neville Longbottom. Severus felt a sneer beginning on his face at the sight of the Longbottom boy and took a deep breath to contain it.

Severus moved to the very last row and took a seat in the golden chair on the very end. Not as tall as he was used to being, he had to stretch his back, crane his neck to be able to see over the heads of the crowd. Severus found his fellow Order members, Nymphadora's head resting on Lupin's shoulder. Mad Eye's head was bowed, as if in prayer. Minerva was in the front row, near Scrimgeour, her chin lifted high in defiance of the tears Severus knew she was refusing to shed.

The merpeople rose to the surface of the lake and began to sing, Severus understood only a word here and there, a song of deep grief. Then Hagrid came up the isle, carrying Dumbledores body wrapped in a spangled purple velvet cloth, placing it gently on the white marble table at the edge of the lake. The giant Gwap, whom Severus had heard about, but had not seen before, stood at the end of the isle and tried his best to comfort the sobbing Hagrid.

The mersong came to an end, the last note drifted off across the shimmering lake.

The small ceremony official rose from his chair, stood in front of the white marble table and Dumbledores body, and began to speak. The words meant very little to Severus, and he knew they would have meant little to Dumbledore. Actions always spoke louder to Dumbledore than words. _And what will you give me in return, Severus? Anything, _Snape had promised, and had fulfilled that promise, was, in fact, still fulfilling it. Although he doubted Dumbledore would approve of Severus attending the funeral, Polyjuice Potion or not. It was risky, if he was caught, Hogwarts would fall into the hands of the Death Eaters, and Severus would not be able to protect the students. And perhaps Potter would not be able to accomplish the task Dumbledore had set him to. Whatever that might be.

Using the Weasley girl's hair as a beacon, Severus was able to find Potter quickly in the seated crowd. As usual, the boy was paying very little attention; Severus saw the green eyes wandering around over the lake and toward the forest, and followed the boys gaze seeing the herd of centaurs standing at the edge of the trees. A moment later, Severus started as screams of shock filled the quiet air. Quickly, his stubby fingers flew to his face, wondering if the potion had worn off, but the screams were due to the bright white flames that had erupted at the front of the crowd, encasing the purple velvet wrapped Headmasters body. Severus watched, feeling his pounding heartbeat settle back into a normal rhythm, as the white smoke spiraled into the air, and just as suddenly as they had started, the flames vanished, leaving a white tomb in their place. Another burst of shouts came when arrows filled the air, falling short of the gathered mourners. Severus looked quickly across the lake, catching just a glimpse of the retreating centaurs, and the merpeople sinking quietly back into the water.

People began to stand and move about once again, the stillness of the mourning dissolving into a chatter of shared memories. Severus would have had no wish to socialize, even if he were not a wanted man, and knew it was time for him to leave. Hagrid and Gwap were blocking the isle to his right, so he turned to his left and began walking briskly across the grounds toward the castle and the road beyond.

"Professor!" Automatically, Severus turned to answer, and found a confused looking Neville Longbottom staring at him as the boy walked up to Minerva McGonagall.

Luna Lovegood was right behind him, walking backwards as she stared out across the sea of golden chairs. Severus followed her gaze, trying to nonchalantly behave as if this was the reasoning for his turning around. It seemed to have worked, as Longbottom turned his face toward Minerva and pointed toward the place were the Lovegood girl was still looking, out across the lake. Severus could just make out the iron gray hair of Scrimgeour, limping as he approached the Potter boy. Curious as he was, Severus knew his time was running out, and there was nothing he could do for Potter anyway. Turning toward the road again, Severus' eyes crossed over his fellow Order members, Kingsley, Moody, Lupin and Tonks. They were all staring at him. Lupin's eyes were narrowed, as if he were trying to solve an invisible problem.

He needed to leave, and now. Walking as briskly as this foreign body would allow, he headed toward the road, turning around once to see if the Order were following, but found himself alone. Passing the burned skeletal remains of Hagrids cabin, past the powder blue Beauxbatons carriage, past the purple Knight Bus, Severus finally made it to the winged boar bedecked wrought iron gates.

He stopped, just outside the gates and turned toward the castle, his eyes quickly finding the window to the Headmasters office and Severus felt a cold ache of fear and regret tearing at his chest. He turned on the spot and Disapparated.


End file.
